


Fortunate Son

by Soraya (soraya2004), soraya2004



Series: Fortunate Son [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Angst, Character Death Fix, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-04
Updated: 2005-12-04
Packaged: 2017-10-14 19:37:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/152741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soraya2004/pseuds/Soraya, https://archiveofourown.org/users/soraya2004/pseuds/soraya2004





	Fortunate Son

"I've stared down the Devil, and had to look away,  
Called out to the Angels, but no one ever came,  
Laid down odd and even, but double zero played,  
That's alright I'm a lucky one, such a fortunate son."

'Fortunate Son' by Bruce Hornsby

\---

There is always a price to pay for getting what you want. If John had any doubts, life's lessons would have cured him of them countless times. In the past, he has seen that price measured in the respect of his colleagues and in the lives of his men. So many men paying for foolish mistakes while Fortune always intervened to carry him through. It doesn't make him feel particularly lucky; in many ways, it's a type of punishment to sail away unhurt while others suffer in his wake. The guilt alone presses him down, eating away at him in stages until his spirit is struggling to bear the weight. Still, none of that has prepared him for what he carries now.

As John trudges across the ocean floor, he thinks this may be the worst price of all. Because, even though he walks and he walks and he walks, it feels like he's going nowhere. The swirling currents are much stronger than he'd anticipated, the Stargate seems so far away, and Rodney is so, so heavy.

He knows he could make it on his own. All he has to do is let go, let Rodney drift away and he will glide forward, smooth and easy and free as the breaking surf. Instead, his hands tighten on the makeshift cord that links Rodney to him. He refuses to consider that option. Because, despite his carefree facade and the occasional acts of insubordination, at his heart he is a good soldier, one who, if given the choice, would never leave a man behind.

So, John continues walking, eyes forward while the dead weight of Rodney's body flaps uselessly behind him.

***

Only once does he lose his grip on Rodney. It happens by accident barely feet away from the gate. Something large scrapes against his thigh, something dark with spines for teeth. Before he can truly assess the danger, it melts back into a sea full of floating shadows, leaving him breathing in rapid gasps, which steam up the inside of his visor. In his anxiety, he turns from side to side scouring for signs of danger. They're so close to the gate, he can't afford to fail now, not when Rodney is counting on him to see them both through this.

Yet, like all things of value, the cord linking Rodney to him is fragile. Slowly, it unravels with each of his twisting turns, slips from his waist, and suddenly Rodney is floating away from him into the dark, cold ocean.

For a moment, John just stands there stunned, watching him go. Rodney looks almost ethereal, with wide open eyes and hair billowing softly into a halo as he's carried on the hands of invisible currents deeper into the black. Then shock gives way to blind panic, and a voice that sounds nothing like his is screaming at Rodney to stay with him.

Fear makes him strong. It makes him run, jump, grab and pull against the ocean's drag with every shred of determination he has left in him. And as Rodney's body slams into him, John's heart is pounding so loudly it's the only sound for miles around.

"Jesus-- *Rodney*!" he whispers brokenly. Wrapping one arm about Rodney's waist, the other moves to steady Rodney's head, cupping it gently in his hand. He tries not to think about just how close he came to losing Rodney; he tries not to worry about how cold Rodney must be without an E-V suit of his own. He only wishes they could touch skin to skin so he can reaffirm that, somehow, Rodney is still with him.

"I'm so sorry," John says to him, pressing his visor to Rodney's forehead. He says it again and again even though he knows Rodney won't hear him. And when he looks deep into Rodney's eyes asking for forgiveness, there are no answers for him there. No sparks, no response, just those empty blue eyes staring back at him.

Eventually, John turns away from them. And with trembling hands, he pulls Rodney close before he continues walking toward the gate.

***

When they reach Atlantis, Carson is waiting in the gate-room with his medical team. They take Rodney from him, lay his body down on the floor and they start trying to revive him. Carson himself cuts Rodney out of his wet clothes, while the rest of trauma team rally under his orders. Everyone else stares on in silence, everyone, apart from Miko, who sobs noisily in Zelenka's arms. The air is already thick with the sense that it's too late, and Rodney's lips are now as blue as his eyes. He lies there limp-limbed, for the most part unresisting only jerking away when Carson shocks him with electricity.

By then, John can barely watch. He doesn't want to remember Rodney this way, all pale and soaking wet with the life running off his skin in rivulets. The Rodney *he* knows is a whirlwind of righteous energy, who can devour anything in his path, not this empty *thing*, not this . . ..

He doesn't realise he has been backing away until his thigh hits a command console. It makes no difference; those lifeless blue eyes seem to follow him wherever he moves. They stare at him, accusing. They judge him and call him a failure. They ask why, if he can save the lives of hundreds of nameless civilians, most of whom never know the sacrifices he has made on their behalf, why can't he save one person who means something to him?

***

In time, even the medical team grows silent, and Carson sits back with the air of a man defeated. John wants to yell at him not to give up, at Rodney to fight for life, at all of them, who just stand there doing nothing while Rodney lies dead on the floor. Instead, his voice stays strangled inside his throat with grief.

As he sinks to his knees, someone lays a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him. But John just shrugs it off. He doesn't want to feel better right now, he doesn't want to move on. His mind is screaming out loud with the unfairness of it all. Rodney doesn't deserve to die; Rodney needs to live, he *needs* Rodney alive, whatever it takes. John just wants Rodney to come back to him.

And just like that, Rodney jerks to one side, coughs violently and spits water from his lungs.

***

Carson has no medical explanation for Rodney's recovery. He has some theories, like partial stasis due to extreme hypothermia, which he spouts along with other medical jargon. But the reality is that no one can explain why Rodney suddenly woke up after being clinically dead for more than ten minutes.

Truthfully, John's not sure anyone really cares. Everyone is so damn relieved to have Rodney back alive that people are hugging each other and wiping tears from their eyes. Even Carson, in his euphoria, is happy to put it down to a miracle of science. And when Rodney stares at them open-mouthed, like they're all recent escapees from an insane asylum, it's such vintage Rodney that it makes their celebrations so much more poignant.

John knows they got lucky. They are all of them so very lucky not to have to bury another team member today. And for once, he allows himself to think that maybe, just maybe, Fortune has cast her net wide enough to catch someone he cares about.

After John bends over and he throws his guts up, he pretends it's a result of his concussion.

***

Days later, when the nightmares start, John is not particularly surprised. He is almost expecting them. It's a small price for having Rodney alive and, for the most part, well; it's a price he's willing to pay.

Only after Rodney slips into a catatonic stupor for the first time does he begin to understand how much that price will cost him.

***

Carson explains that the mind is a fluid thing. It evolves and it grows with each life experience, adding new layers and new facets to memory. Carson also tells him that the mind makes a person who they are. But, sometimes, when perception becomes its own reality, the mind is little more than a prison.

Rodney's mind is folding in on itself.

The irony is that, in his lucid moments, Rodney is even smarter, even better than before. Now, he has a grasp of the universe that goes beyond instinct or any known theory, and his brain waves are literally off the charts. He also can't remember who the hell anyone is on the Atlantis expedition.

Oh, he does a great job pretending to fit in. But, John has spent many hours with Rodney, watching him eat, watching him work, teaching him how to fight; he has seen the shift in Rodney's moods from fear to exhilaration. He can tell when Rodney isn't being completely straight with him. And John knows that this person, who came back from the dead, who wears Rodney's face and Rodney's clothes, clearly is yet somehow is not quite Rodney McKay.

That sense of *wrong* grows each time Rodney falls into a catatonic state. Because every time Rodney slips away, a little less of the McKay they knew before comes back. What makes it worse is that, when he's with them, Rodney tries so hard to be what he thinks they all want. However, the inconsistencies become so acute it's almost as though there's some other presence lurking within his mind.

***

After Rodney slips away for the sixth time, John stops counting. His father had always taught him to be strong, to keep his emotions inside and the world would come to him. Now, most of his days are spent in the infirmary, waiting. Usually, he reads to Rodney, hoping familiar sounds will help to draw him back. Sometimes, he dreams of another life they lead.

In these dreams, Rodney always knows who he is. They walk through Atlantis, exploring her depths; they fly through the stars and discover brave new worlds together. Always, he and Rodney return to Atlantis because that is where they belong. Yet, each time John floats through the city with Rodney at his side, he can't help noticing that Atlantis seems *different* . . . more alive.

In some abstract way, John understands that the landscape of dreams is ever changing. Still, it doesn't dispel the creeping sense of unease that this place and these dreams mirror a fight for Rodney's mind. One that John fears he is losing. Because, every time he leaves, he has to beg Atlantis a little harder to give Rodney back to him. Every time, she hurts him a little more for trying to take her favourite son. And now, more often than not, when John wakes from those dreams, blood drips from his nose onto Rodney's pristine sheets.

It's no longer clear to John which of them is the lucky one. While Rodney might have drowned quickly the first time, he now gets to watch Rodney die a little more each day. Each time those empty blue eyes stare through him, he wonders about what might have been. And as he waits at Rodney bedside, he finds it harder to cling to the idea that part of Rodney is better than no Rodney at all. He remembers how Rodney kissed him under the ocean and how good it felt to hold him. He thinks about the way Rodney used to look at him with heat in his eyes.

Unless Carson can find a way to stop this decline, John knows he's going to lose more than a friend. He thinks he may lose his chance at happiness.

The End.


End file.
